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Use this form to document a participant's consent to participate in your interview. Please have your subject (the interviewee) print and sign their name and fill in the date on page 2. This form should be uploaded (as a PDF) along with audio and transcript of the interview.

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In July I was invited to speak about the #BaltimoreUprising at the Duke Summer Institute for Reconciliation. My presentation focused on “Why We Cry, How We Cry and Who Can Cry?” in response to state violence.

“Why We Cry” dealt with the systemic and structural violence in Baltimore City—the years of neglect, disinvestment and underdevelopment. “How We Cry (The Uprising)” addressed the community’s response to state violence and systemic and structural violence. And finally, “Who Can Cry?” raised the question of whether certain groups are allowed to express their pain publicly. Do blacks or the most marginalized in our society have the right to express frustration, anger, and outrage? Do they have the right, even, to be violent?”

These complex questions arise from a seemingly unending stream of difficult facts in America. From Trayvon Martin to Freddie Gray, the world has watched interactions between unarmed African Americans and law enforcement end in the death of black bodies. In a study entitled “Operation Ghetto Storm,” the Malcolm X Grassroots Movement found that at least 313 African Americans were killed by police, security guards, and self-appointed vigilantes in 2012. The group’s research found that one black person was killed in an extrajudicial shooting every 28 hours.

The Counted, a project by the Guardian newspaper documenting the number of people killed by police and other law enforcement agencies in the United States, has shown that as of November 1, 2015, some 957 people have been killed by the police in the United States. This past June, the Guardian published an article entitled “Black Americans killed by police are twice as likely to be unarmed as white people.” According to the piece, “32% of black people killed by police in 2015 were unarmed, as were 25% of Hispanic and Latino people, compared with 15% of white people killed.”

In response to these brutal facts, the national media in the United States have concentrated on How We Cry—on the anguish of African American family members, friends, and communities in the aftermath of wave upon wave of violence. But the Rev. Heber Brown, III, co-founder of Baltimore United for Change, has reminded us to “Be wary of those who are more concerned with the expression of your pain than the condition of your suffering.” To wit, one recent video by Brave New Films points to media bias between white rioters and black protesters, illustrating the ways in which blacks are often portrayed as violent.

After the death of Freddie Gray at the hands of Baltimore City Police, I joined with other grassroots activists in Baltimore to form Baltimore United for Change (#BmoreUnited), a coalition made up of social action groups, faith-based organizations, and concerned citizens working for justice in Baltimore City. We organized peaceful protests and held numerous nonviolent civil disobedience trainings for the community.

But even peaceful protests by African Americans can be viewed negatively by whites.

“Most white Americans generally believe that protests are good for the country, but they hold significant reservations about protests led by African Americans,” explained Dr. Robert P. Jones, CEO of Public Religion Research Institute (PRRI). In a recent survey, PRRI found that “two-thirds (67%) of white Americans agree that Americans protesting government mistreatment always leave the country better off. But fewer than half (48%) of whites say the same when asked about black Americans speaking out against and protesting unfair treatment by the government.”
And whites aren’t alone in this perspective. In a press conference about the Baltimore Uprisings, President Obama referred to “looters” as “thugs and criminals.” Though he addressed some of the systemic and structural issues that plague Baltimore, he also said that there was no excuse for the violence. Afterward, local leaders—particularly clergy—were bombarded with questions and asked to condemn the broken windows and looting.

I find it particularly curious that whenever the state is violent toward the Black community, and the community mobilizes in response to that violence, the media begin to focus upon individuals I call “Preacher Pacifiers.” So often, members of the clergy who have been the most silent concerning state violence are tasked with bringing calm and peace to their communities–with restoring things back to “normal.”

Unfortunately, in some instances, these Preacher Pacifiers “treat the wound of my people carelessly, saying, ‘Peace, peace,’ when there is no peace” (Jeremiah 6:14). They ask for peace without addressing the root causes of its disruption. For that reason, The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. took on Preacher Pacifiers in a 1968 speech (“The Other America”), when he insisted, “It is not enough for me to stand before you tonight and condemn riots. It would be morally irresponsible for me to do that without, at the same time, condemning the contingent, intolerable conditions that exist in our society.”

It’s interesting. Less than a week before President Obama contended that “there was no excuse for the violence in Baltimore,” an April New York Times article quoted him as saying, in defense of his military drone strikes, “Let’s kill the people who are trying to kill us.” Similarly, when Israel led a 51-day military offensive in the summer of 2014 that resulted in the deaths of over 2,300 Palestinians, Obama claimed that Israel had “a right to defend itself.” In response, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist Chris Hedges argued that “We are deeply complicit in the slaughter that is being unleashed by the Israeli military against a defenseless population, a population that has no air force, no navy, no command-and-control, no mechanized units, no heavy artillery, and certainly no air force.”

Given the situation in Israel, we can see that extrajudicial killings in which the state serves as judge, jury and executioner of black and brown people are not simply a domestic issue. Since 2004 the US has conducted over 400 drone strikes, killing more than 2,400 civilians in Pakistan. Three hundred seventy of the strikes have been conducted under the Obama administration, and it is estimated those particular attacks have injured up to 1,700 citizens and killed as many as 1,000 more—including 200 children. Despite such high casualty rates and uncertainty regarding targets, two-thirds of Americans support the use of targeted killing.

Even though Black Christian leaders are often called upon to condemn local grassroots uprisings that arise in response to state violence, they are rarely asked to condemn violence perpetrated by the state itself, domestically or abroad. Apparently, America isn’t all that interested in what Black preachers think about foreign policy; their role is not to mettle in foreign affairs. That said, keeping peace is a pressing domestic issue—and that’s why Black preachers are expected to serve as a buffer between the violent state and the increasingly frustrated Black community.

At the end of the day, it seems as though only some lives are worth defending—and as though only select groups of individuals are allowed to be violent in taking up that defense.

But whom, exactly, should be granted the right to exercise violence while defending lives, families, and communities? That is not a legal question; it has more to do with moral consistency. And, to be clear: my purpose in raising this question is not to advocate for violence among those in social movements, but rather to demand a more critical appraisal of who has the right to be violent, and how we view violence. According to the Pew Research Center, the 114th Congress is overwhelmingly white, male, and Christian; 92% of Congress members identify with that particular faith tradition. This very white, male and Christian Congress has supported preemptive war, drones, torture, the aggression of Israel, and policies that bolster the sort of structural violence in urban communities that disproportionately affects Blacks. Despite the media representations of out-of-control Black looters and protestors, the verifiable facts tell a very different story about the sources, practices, and privileges of violence in America.

America was founded on violence, and I suppose it will continue to be violent. As we continue to tweet Black death—as Black bodies are gunned down by the hands of the state with what should be (but alas is not) a wrenching regularity—is there a moral response to state-sponsored terror beyond nonviolent civil disobedience? Is violence only an option for the powerful, white, and Christian?

Who gets to decide when violence is acceptable, moral, and even Christian? Who gets to decide that a brick in Baltimore is more violent than—just this week—a police officer’s gun in Louisiana, or, for that matter, a drone in Pakistan?

Before we get down to sorting out how to reduce violence, I am suggesting that we must tackle a far more difficult question: Who, exactly, has the right to be violent?

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"Our City" -- A Letter to My Undergraduate Students

Prof. Elizabeth Kennedy, Law and Social Responsibility, composed morning of April 28, 2015

(I've been receiving requests from my students to share this with a greater audience. Note that the following email does not represent all, or even a good deal of all the thoughts I have about what is happening in my city right now, nor what I think is necessary for real, systemic change. It was written for my undergraduate students because although classes ended at Loyola yesterday, I wanted to continue the conversation we'd had about justice all semester.)

Good morning, all.

I'm writing because I have been thinking about you all, and many of our class discussions this semester, as they relate to our City right now. I imagine many of your parents and friends have been reaching out to you to check in, and are asking you about what they were seeing in the streets of Baltimore, as covered wall-to-wall by the national news networks. I live, as my colleague Brian Norman put it, "radically adjacent" to the neighborhood in which Freddie Gray lived, and in which much of the damage occurred last night. Though physically proximate, there is an incomprehensible chasm between the life I lead, and the relationship I have with Baltimore City, from those in Sandtown, Penn-North, and all of West (and many other parts of) Baltimore.

Like many of you I am sure, I received many notes from family and friends yesterday to "stay safe." However, what that means for me and what that means for my neighbors just blocks away are so different. Violence in these neighborhoods is a constant. Harassment by the police is constant. Being treated not worthy of protection by police is constant. A lack of jobs and adequate housing is constant. Fear is constant. Uncertainty is constant. Crumbling schools are constant.

I cannot begin to truly understand what life is like for my "radically adjacent" neighbors. But I can try. I must try. In the Jesuit traditions of presence, reflection and discernment, it is only by spending time outside the safety of my own neighborhood -- whether that is a residential neighborhood, an educational neighborhood, a professional neighborhood -- that I can begin to understand. It is why I teach courses designed to push us all outside of our comfort zones. It is why I send my kids to our local public school. It is why I spent yesterday afternoon talking with residents and store owners up and down Pennsylvania Avenue, until they began shuttering their doors, bracing for more uncertainty.

I am heading over to Pennsylvania Avenue with the kids shortly to help clean up. I am happy to talk with any of you about what is going on, and answer any questions as best I can. I'd also direct you to the following Baltimore Sun editorial in order to gain a better context about why so many folks in Baltimore City would feel as angry as they do right now: http://www.baltimoresun.com/news/opinion/editorial/bs-ed-freddie-gray-20150425-story.html

Some of you are natives of Baltimore, some of you call it home now, and some, I hope, will continue to call it home after you graduate. If you have learned anything about Baltimore City by now, it is that it is a city of contrasts, of wealthy and attractive playgrounds like Camden Yards and the Inner Harbor, as well as some of the largest concentrations of poverty in this country. You all asked many good questions all semester about justice, especially as it relates to the role that our legal system plays in ensuring that those subjected to injustice can be made whole. Last night was a powerful reminder that when the legal system itself, and those charged with enforcing laws, are themselves sources of injustice, the pain and suffering usually kept well hidden behind walls of a highly segregated city, is made visible to all. I hope you will continue to ask good questions, instead of jumping to judgment. We as a city, and as a Loyola community, must continue to ask these questions, recognize that which we do not understand, and take critical steps toward understanding and action.

All the best,

Prof. Kennedy

Added later that afternoon on April 28 during Facebook discussion:

For those following along, I had many conversations with students last night, many of whom expressed reactions to yesterdays clean-ups along the line of, "That's the Baltimore I know and love," or about Monday night, "That's not the Baltimore I know and love." I asked them to consider what those statements, though entirely well-meaning, said about the experience/lives of marginalized folks, who also "know and love Baltimore." To say that the anger and frustration of young people in neighborhoods like Sandtown, where life expectancy is the lowest -- on par with India and much lower than the U.S. -- is "not Baltimore" is to once again deny, turn away from, and discount their lives. Just because it is not the Baltimore that you know, doesn't make it any less Baltimore. How we choose to express what we all should be feeling in Baltimore right now - anger, sadness, frustration, does not define or diminish the motivations for those expressions. Yes, yesterdays cleanups were an awesome example of how great people can be when we come together, cross neighborhood boundaries, and help one another out. To love Baltimore, as I do and as so many of my students do, is to get to know ALL of Baltimore. http://health.baltimorecity.gov/.../Life-expectancy-2013.pdf

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In the seven years I’ve called Baltimore home, I have never seen a more widespread outpouring of love and support than I’ve witnessed this week. Thousands of people came out of their homes on Tuesday morning to clean, to green, to feed. They crossed boundaries and danced together, sang together, prayed together, protested together. Rather than wait for some official call to action, as my friend Mary so accurately described in her piece in in the CS Monitor, “Baltimore just did it.” Many who live in and love our city declared,“THIS is the Baltimore I know,” or “This is the REAL Baltimore,” in contrast to Monday night, which was not the Baltimore they knew, and either explicitly or implicitly, not the “real” Baltimore.

Coming together to clean up, or play music, or peacefully march IS Baltimore. And it is beautiful. It is another reason I love this city. But Monday night was Baltimore too.

Creative people collaborating to express their frustration, sadness and hope through public art and musical performances? That’s Baltimore. Young people expressing justifiable rage and anger against persistent police brutality, poverty, community disinvestment and political disfranchisement? That is Baltimore too.

Neighbors sitting on stoops, faith communities uniting to meet citywide needs, young people organizing a movement for change that is, as my friend Laura describes hopefully, “smart, unapologetic and strategic”? That is Baltimore. But the criminalization of black children, and the systematic use of brute police force on Monday night to set them up instead of embrace and engage? That was Baltimore too.

To declare that the anger, frustration and rage of young people in neighborhoods like Sandtown is “not Baltimore,” is to once again deny, turn away from, and discount the lives and lived experiences of so many who also call Baltimore home.

Baltimore is my city, a city I love, which has embraced me as a relative newcomer. My husband and I are raising three kids here and sleep easy knowing they will be safe, engaged, inspired, educated, and loved. But just down the street, another parent fears her own child may “be the next Freddie Gray.” Baltimore is that mother’s city, too.

Maybe living in Baltimore has never meant wanting to throw a rock at a police officer, or smash a store window. Maybe you’ve never felt crushed by living in a neighborhood where more fathers, sons and brothers than any other in a wealthy state are sent to prison. Maybe you could never imagine destroying your own block, because yours is a neighborhood of choice, not one you feel you must burn down in order to escape. But that doesn't make it not Baltimore. And if that is not your experience in Baltimore, as it is certainly not mine, our response cannot solely be to create more of what YOU love about Baltimore (but please, keep doing that too). If you did not recognize the anger and rage expressed in the streets of our city Monday night, ask yourself why? And then, how – how to better know this city we love, all the parts of it. We cannot simply cut and paste the parts of Baltimore we like and call the edited version, "real."

Right now many are wishing for peace in Baltimore. But for Baltimore to become a city that is Tuesday morning for all, not Monday night for many, we need justice, we need justice.

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Walker, The Baltimore Riots.pdf

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University of Baltimore student Gwenaviere Reaves-Walker wrote a paper for her history professor Joshua Davis regarding her oral history interviews with Clyde E. Boatwright, Fraternal Order of Police President for Lodge #5 for Baltimore School police, President Councilman Bernard "Jack" Young, and writer and protestor Ralph E. Johnson Jr.

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Coleman, Baltimore Riots.pdf

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University of Baltimore student Aaron Coleman wrote a paper for his history class regarding the death of Freddie Gray from the perspective of his father Leo Coleman, who grew up in Baltimore during the 1968 Baltimore riots.

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Materials in this collection are from a Maryland Public Information Act (MPIA) request made by the Baltimore Sun regarding the actions of Baltimore City officials before, during, and after the unrest on April 27, 2015. Materials were released to the public on July 27, 2015 and may contain redactions. Additional information on the MPIA can be found here: https://www.oag.state.md.us/Opengov/pia.htm